


Remembrence

by SegaBarrett



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Jaime is caught in a fog.





	Remembrence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueteak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, and I make no money from this.

Jaime Lannister had gotten used to sleeping alone. He didn’t like it, but he had gotten used to it.

He didn’t like sleeping at all, hadn’t since he had been a young boy frightened of the dark and unable to put it into words. It was not something he could have told Cersei, of course – she would have laughed in his face, and if he had accepted it when Tyrion was old enough to respond, Tyrion probably would have laughed at him just the same. 

It was funny, after all, the things that went through the mind of brawny, strong Jaime, the one who always had to rise above it all and be the valiant knight. 

Or the blood-stained knight, the Kingslayer.

It hadn’t really been that he was frightened of the dark so much, if he was being completely honest with himself.

It had been the dreams.

Jaime had been plagued with them as a child – ones that didn’t make much sense but usually involved hands coming out of the walls, clenched fists and the sound of wailing that never ceased. He had told Cersei about them, but she’d laughed it off. A little too quickly, maybe. Maybe she had them, too.

And now, here they were again. In dreams he always had his hand back, as if it was a part of him that existed in his mind, filtered away for safe keeping, for special occasions. To stroke the back of his neck or to get to a scratch that just would not quit. Like it wanted to go out dancing after being hidden from the world.

Jaime didn’t know why he was thinking about this now. He wasn’t dreaming – at least, he was pretty sure he could not be, though there was a fog to his thoughts that he could not shake. 

He could hear a voice echoing through the halls, summoning him, though he could not understand exactly what was being said. He was being led along like he was on a string, or maybe a leash. A horse being led into a stable, perhaps. But where was this stable in the Red Keep? Was he heading to Cersei’s room (a bad idea, for she was in an ill temper on this night)? Or was it somewhere else?

“Jaime.”

That he heard; that was clear, certainly, and he whipped around to try to ascertain who could have spoken. 

A hand on his shoulder, then, and he was whipped back around again so quickly that it hurt slightly.

“I should have known.”

And Jaime should have, too, because in that moment he realized who had spoken. There was a wispy, smoke-like figure standing in front of him, almost a fog himself.

Not the way he had been when he was alive, no doubt. He had been imposing, then – Jaime had always been afraid of him, had always wanted to please him. A task that was impossible.

Jaime reached out to touch the shoulder of Tywin Lannister, but his fingers didn’t connect. He should have known; Tywin had always been one step away, always too high to look in the eye. Unattainable. Would Jaime have been the same to his own sons if he had claimed them? Would he be naught but a wisp of smoke now?

“What is it that you want, Father?” Jaime inquired. He could not touch him, now, but he could look him in the eye. Was it Tyrion’s head that the man demanded? Allegiance? For Jaime to throw off his cloak and be the son he had wanted at last?  
Tywin’s lips curled and opened – he was mouthing words, but the fog was making them impossible to see. The smoke and the fog hurt Jaime’s eyes, but he narrowed them and looked on. 

“Tell me,” he intoned.

And then someone was grabbing his arm, yanking him through the fog, pulling him upright. 

“You were screaming in your sleep,” Cersei criticized, but she looked worried. “Making a spectacle of yourself. Really, Jaime.”

And then she walked away, back into the fog that settled between them.


End file.
